Shock and Awe
by Srelex
Summary: Voldemort has killed Harry, defeated the Ministry of Magic and taken over England...only for the US and European militaries to move in and kick his ass.
1. Prelude

Damien Samael, servant of Emperor Voldemort, ruler of all the magical world, breathed in the salty sea air as he walked up to the edge of the White cliffs of Dover. These last few days had been glorious. Harry Potter, the accursed one, was dead. Hogwarts had been seized. The ministry of magic was a nonentity. The Muggles were under suppression. Now they could forward to a new age of just and firm rule.

As he stepped up to the cliff edge, he immediately became aware of something that wasn't right. He took a step back. In formation, spread across the sea, were what looked like big grey buildings on the waters, lined with aircraft. Muggle ships. Very large ones. But weren't the Muggles supposed to be defeated?

He took a look up. The sky wasn't right either. It was filled with v-formations of Muggle flying machines, screaming overhead, drowning out even the roar of the waves. What were they called again? Aeroplanes, that was it. But where was all this coming from?

He noted smaller boats beside the big larger ones, heading towards the sure. These were open-roofed, and he could see large armored things and armed Muggles in them. This couldn't be right. Lord Voldemort had assured him that the Muggles were no longer an issue.

Then, he became aware of something approaching him very fast. A missile. He found himself frozen to the ground. Seconds before it hit, he became aware of some writing on its tip, which he realized summed up just what was to happen:

**SUCK ON ****THIS, ****GANDALF. **


	2. Chapter I: Take Off Every Jet

Aboard the USS Gerald R. Ford, US navy admiral Kolhammer observed the White Cliffs of Dover ahead of them as the largest amphibious operation since D-day was being put into place. Arranged in the channel was the entirety of the American naval presence in the Atlantic, along with the force of the French, German, Scandinavian, Dutch, Danish, Spanish, Italian, and Polish navies. And there were a few remaining Royal Navy warships. Countless landing craft were already being moved into position, laden with troops from all these nations, and air squadrons were already moving in.

With that, he headed to the tactical room behind the bridge. Waiting there were several military commanders from the most major contributors to this operation—Jacques from France, Hauser from Germany, Bakker from the Netherlands, Leone from Italy, Johanson from Sweden, and various others. In the shadows were some robed people—the ones who had provided the most invaluable intelligence for this operation.

His eyes turned to the faces on the various screens lining the wall, of the various world leaders who had put this operation into place. President Barack Obama of the United States, Angela Merkel of Germany, Nicolas Sarkozy of France, of Italy, British Prime Minister-in-exile David Cameron, and Vladimir Putin of Russia, who had also ostensibly agreed to provide support. He walked up to Obama's telescreen, and saluted.

"Mr. President, we are a-go. Operation Awe is initiating."

"Excellent." Said Obama. "Have we received any response from the enemy?"

"None yet, sir. If my calculations are correct, the first SEAL and Marine teams will be landing at pre-designated targets now."

"Remember general, I want collateral damage kept to a minimal. I would also like feed from spy drones and satellites beamed directly to the White House."

"Yes, sir."

"You said we had several...wizards on our side." Cameron cut in. "Where are they?"

"That would be us." A young Japanese woman in robes stepped out of the shadows, along with a gaunt Caucasian male. "I am Sasaki, practitioner of Chi magic. This is Matthias—you would consider him more of a 'regular' wizard."

"We have identified that several individuals opposed to Voldemort remain active in England." Said Matthias in an unidentifiable Central European accent. "Once your forces have established beachheads, we will be able to link up with them."

"We must warn you," continued Sasaki, "Voldemort has many powerful wizards on his side. Do not underestimate him, no matter what your superiority in technology."

"We've got other such individuals in our possession besides them." Continued Kolhammer. "Thanks to the invaluable intelligence they've provided, we've been able to install all possible countermeasures to ranged magical effects."

"Spy drones will counter the spell that supposedly confuses ground troops." Interjected Hauser. "We've also managed to equip our forward troops with charms that will repel supernatural creatures we can expect to face."

"Technology and magic combined." Said Jacques, with a touch of awe about his voice. "Not much that can beat that."

"I should hope so, for all our sake." Said Obama. "Months of planning, preparation...it all boils down to now. I will certainly..."

"Sir, we're getting a transmission!" shouted a communications officer in the bridge. "High priority!"

"Open it." Said Kolhammer.

A new screen appeared, of a long-haired, blond man, with a staff.

"Greetings. I am Lucius Malfoy, representative of the Dark Lord himself. I trust I am addressing the Muggle leaders, who so rashly assume that they can topple his reign? I also trust that this confounded machine is working?"

"I am President Barack Obama of the United States of America." Said Obama, sitting up. "On behalf of the countries of NATO and Europe, I am hereby demanding your immediate surrender. If you do not comply, you will face the consequences."

"And what consequences would those be, my dark-skinned Muggle friend?"

"How about your ass getting kicked so hard it ain't even funny?" said Obama, his voice becoming more rougher and angrier. "If you motherfuckers think that you can stand up to the combined military might of half the western world, then you've got another fucking thing coming. You can tell your punk-ass 'Dark Lord' this: if he don't play ball, he's getting a Tomahawk missile where the sun don't shine. Got that?"

Lucius merely responded with a scowl, and the screen flickered into blackness. There was a pause, and Obama blushed deeply.

"Sorry, I let my mouth speak before my brain there. Commander Kolhammer, you now have authorization to move to the second stage. Godspeed."

"Yes, sir!"

**

Operation Awe was now in full swing. F-35s, F-22s, and F-18s took off from the decks of US navy aircraft carriers, accompanied by Eurofighters, Mirage fighters, and Tornadoes. AC-130s and C-130s moved in with them, with wave upon waves of Chinooks, Apaches, and Eurocopter Tigers moving in low. Landing craft laden with troops and tanks moved in to wards designated targets on the English southern coast. UAVs and scout jets screamed further inland, towards London.

The hammer was about to drop.


	3. Chapter II: Hitting the Sand

"We're hitting the sands in ten! Marines, get ready!"

US Marine James Parker readied his M16 assault rifle as the lander craft he and about a dozen other Marines began to scrape solid surface. Inside the lander was a Humvee, to provided heavier support. He covered his ears as waves of jets screamed overhead, followed by the thundering of helicopter gunships and transports. Thousands of American and European soldiers were being landed along the southern coast of England; the job of him and his fellow Marines was to secure a section of Brighton Beach.

He wasn't quite sure what they were facing. Wizards, dragons, and other Dungeons and Dragons shit was way over his head. But he would do it, as would his fellow troops. Because they were US Marines, and nobody fucked with them.

He readied his rifle as the forward doors of the lander opened. Beside him, Jackson, a burly black man from the Bronx, readied an M249 machinegun, stuffing ammo feeds into it, while others released the safeties on theirM4 carbines and various specialised weapons. This was it. The biggest damn amphibious landing that made D-day look like a picnic, and he was part of it.

"Go, go, GO!"

The Marines charged out of the lander straight onto the wet sands of Brighton Beach, immediately taking positions nearby as they secured the immediate area. Scanning the buildings on the waterfront ahead, Parker kept his M16 ready as the Humvee rolled out after them. Taking a peek behind over his shoulder, his chest swelled in pride at the sight of aircraft carriers and destroyers stretched across the channel as far as they eye could see, and the waves of aircraft still coming.

"Beach secured, Marines!" shouted the sergeant. "You ready to kick some wand-wavin' ass, Marines?"

"OORAH!"

"Then move it! Squad, form on me! Armor, keep cover! Wilkins, Trevors, assume positions there and there! Everyone else, forward!"

Moving forward, the Marines came up to the beachfront buildings. The place seemed deserted—the odd window was shattered, and cars were dotted randomly across the road, but there wasn't a trace of people in sight. To both sides of them, Marines and European troops were also spilling out of landers and helicopters, with tanks and armor rolling out onto the beach. Parker was also aware from the briefing that they had several French Eurocopter gunships ready on standby from the Charles de Gaulle aircraft carrier.

"Area secured, sir!" reported one of the Marines. "No hostiles in sight!"

"Keep your eyes peeled! Move further into the city, men! If it ain't one of us, shoot it!"

Assuming a tight formation, the Marines briefly waited for the Humvee to drive onto the Marine Parade before heading into one of the streets off the beach. The place was far too deserted for Parker's likings—if there were civilians, would they not be cheering their new liberators, or otherwise rising up, what with half of NATO to back them up?

The Marines halted as figures began moving rapidly towards them from up ahead, leaping over abandoned cars and other street furniture. Rotting, hideous, corpse-like things—fucking zombies. The bastards were sending fucking zombies out. Well, they happened to be sending them against the US fucking Marines.

"Incoming hostiles! Open fire!"

The 20mm machinegun atop the Humvee was first to fire. Sweeping in an arc, it send armor-piercing bullets slamming into the first wave of zombies, crumpling the surfaces of various cars like paper. Knocked back, the zombies were finished off as the Marines assembled into a wall formation and put up all the firepower they had. Grenades arced from M16 launchers, blasting apart the things as they kept on coming. Remington 870 shotguns blew back the zombies that got anywhere near, shattering their ribcages.

After a minute or so of constant firing, leaving Parker's ears ringing, the Marines ceased fire, surveying the street, now littered with burning, wrecked cars and mangled remains of zombies.

"I love the smell of kickass in the morning." Grinned the sergeant. "Hostiles eliminated! Marines, move on!"

Explosions rumbled from somewhere in the town as the Marines moved down the street, delivered by jets screaming overhead. Airstrikes were already being delivered---either there were a helluva lot more of those things, or worse things, thought Parker grimly. After all, if this Voldemort had taken over all of England, he surely had some nasty shit up his sleeve.

"Hold up!" called the sergeant. "Coming in over all comms channels—shit! There's something heading right for our position! Prepare to take—"

The Marines looked up in shock as something huge smashed aside one of the buildings further up the street, carrying a tree in one arm. It was some huge, house-sized, deformed thing—a giant. Shit.

"Bigger they are, the harder they fall." Said the sergeant dismissively. "Marines, open fire!"

The giant roared as it was peppered with small arms rounds, apparently causing it little harm. One of the Marines, armed with a Javelin rocket launcher, took position as the Marines moved out of his way to avoid the backblast, and fired, sending forth an anti-tank missile that impacted straight into the giant's chest. Visibly scarred, the giant roared again, and began to charge, causing the abandoned vehicles in the street to jump inches into the air and car alarms to scream blocks away.

"Shit! Marines, inside!" The Marines quickly ducked into the buildings beside him, with Parker finding himself inside an empty travel agents. The Humvee, sitting there, continued to fire at the giant with its 20mm, doing little harm. Running up to the vehicle, the giant grabbed it and overturned it, before jumping on it, scrunching its armor. Parker didn't want to think about the poor bastards in there.

"We need air support!" shouted the sergeant, producing a radio. "Tiger one, two, and three, you copy?"

"_We copy, monsieur._"

"Heavy air support needed! Target will be marked!"

"_Roger that, mon ami, we are heading there now._"

"Jason and Carlson, light up that big fucker! Rest of you, covering fire!"

Roaring, the giant smashed down the front of the shop with a kick as the Marines opened fire, with some of them lighting it up with laser markers. Reaching inside, the giant managed to grab one of the men, who continued blazing away with his M4 as it brought him up to its face. Yelling, the men emptied the rest of his clip into the giant's eye, causing it to scream in agony before finally tearing his head off.

"Here comes the heat!" shouted the sergeant as three Eurocopter Tigers came in rapidly. Blazing away with 30mm GIAT cannons and Hellfire missiles, they finally penetrated the giant's skin. Screaming, the giant toppled onto one of the buildings as blood spurted from countless wounds, before collapsing onto the ground, blocking up the street.

"_Job done, monsieur. Now it is we cheese-eating surrender monkeys who are saving your American asses, non?"_ came the dry voice of the pilot from the radio.

"Just get your ass back there to reload and carry on, you snail-eating asshole." Chuckled the sergeant. "Alright, Marines, LET'S GO!"


	4. Chapter III: Hot ammo

"LZ's coming in a moment; get ready to hit the dirt!"

Philip Rogers, soldier of the SAS, loaded his M16 as he sat in the troop bay of a V22 Osprey, with the countryside of South England flashing by below through the windows. Only a few months ago, he had been in Afghanistan, fighting what he had been told was a war for freedom; now, it was to liberate his own country, taken over by an enemy he'd have never had conceived he'd fight. Wizards. Fucking wizards. What had the world come to?

He glanced at the people sitting around him. Two other SAS soldiers like him, who hadn't spoken much since he had met them on the deck of a US Navy aircraft carrier out in the Channel a few hours ago, with one of them having covered his face with a mask and the other bearded, cradling sub-machineguns. There were two US Marines, both studying arms manuals, and a strange woman in a trenchcoat holding an MPK. She hadn't even spoken during the briefing.

"Two minutes to LZ!"

He reminded himself of the objective. They were to secure a former RAF airbase near the town of Maidstone; he was somewhat perturbed as to why they had only chosen a handful like them for a mission he would have guessed would have required at least several squads. All opposition was to be neutralized and flares set off so that further reinforcements could land.

"Hey." He said to the woman. Better time than never to try and get something out of here. "So why you're here?"

She paused. "My name is Anita." She said finally, in an accent he couldn't place—French? Dutch? "I am...a witch."

One of the Marines chuckled. She shot him a foul glare. "I have been tasked to accompany you to provide support for threats you may have difficulty comprehending. Do not consider me useless baggage—know well that I am familiar with your ways and weapons. This gun, that I hold here, has been charmed to hold a vast amount of rounds in its magazine, with no recoil."

Rogers whistled. "Fancy."

"One minute!"

"Alright then, you bunch of tossers," said the bearded SAS man, sitting up, "check you've got everything."

Rogers looked through his pouches, at all the various items they had given to him 'just in case'. Crucifixes. Garlic. Silver bullets. From Taliban to talismans, he thought absently. The whole damn situation just seemed so surreal, so unbelievable. He remembered the outline of all the creatures they could possibly face...vampires, werewolves, zombies. Like a damn Hammer horror movie.

"Thirty seconds!"

The squad got up, arming their weapons, as the Osprey came over the airbase, slowing and descending. Zombies—he assumed they were zombies—covered the tarmac in front of the main hangar, shuffling forward as the aircraft positioned itself overhead. Starting up, the GAU-19 Gatling gun placed on the nose opened fire, making a noise like a demonically possessed lawnmower, ripping the zombies apart as it descended further, until it was hovering a meter above the ground. The rear doors finally opened as the squad got out, moving in the direction of the control tower as the last zombie was blown to chunks by the Gatling gun.

"Where did these pieces of shit come from?" growled one of the Marines, walking up to one of the more intact zombie bodies and kicking it.

"Probably the base personnel. I've heard that these things are crawling all over the damn creature—that Voldemort bastard probably turned the entire population into these fuckers." Growled the masked SAS man. "Soon as we get the arsehole, I'll be blowing his fucking brains out myself."

As the Osprey took off behind it, a glowing green pulse shot by it, narrowly missing one of the rotors.

"_Shit!_" the pilot's voice came in over Roger's headset. "_Under fire here, unknown source! You'll have to do without air support for a little while!_"

"Not a problem. Follow me." Said Anita, as she walked up to one of the hangar doors and aimed her weapon. Rogers was taken aback she pressed down on the trigger and the damn thing shot out rounds at a rate similar to a CIWS weapon, covering the ground beneath her in spent shell casings, as he blew a hole in the door.

"That's bloody impressive." Said the bearded SAS man as they moved inside. "Do you do card tricks too?"

"Very funny." Muttered Anita as they cautiously moved into the badly lit hangar interior, with several Tornado fighters, some of them partly disassembled, scattered around, along with fuel drums and crates. What disturbed Rogers was a huge bloodstain on one of the aircraft—he couldn't imagine what had caused that.

"Movement sensor's not picking anything up." Muttered one of the Marines.

"Be careful." Said Anita. "I feel that we are not alone here."

"Don't you bloody say that." Said the masked SAS man. "Haven't you watched horror movies?"

"Your attitude perplexes me." Said Anita, focusing on him. "Your country is under oppression, you are on a vital mission, and you have the audacity to make jokes here?"

"Ma'am, we're British. Taking the piss in bad situations is a national pastime, if you know what I mean."

"Anyway, miss, no offence," said one of the Marines, "but regardless of whatever your voodoo's telling you, we're all alone here. I guess we can count this area as secure and..."

A blade suddenly impaled itself through his chest as something shimmered behind him.

"_Merde! _Invisibility cloak!" spat Anita, as she opened fire, spraying the entire area in that direction with bullets. The others did the same, throwing down suppressive fire, with bullets holing the wall and the aircraft in that direction.

Finally, a bullet-ridden, bloody cloak appeared with a young man rolling out from under it, practically mutilated after being hit with hundreds of rounds, with tattoos visible on what was left of his face.

"Death Eater." Mused Anita. "We should be more careful." She then produced a parchment of some kind, with moving images on it. Magical map? "_Now _this area is secure. That is why you should take this seriously. Do not underestimate this enemy just because they do not fight like you."

"Whatever, missus." Said the bearded man. "You—Rogers, or whatever your name was. Go and out there and pop those flares."

As he walked towards the entrance, Rogers turned around.

"No offence, sir, but I'd like to know your name if we're going to have to work together."

"You can call me...Price."


End file.
